


seventy years and yesterday

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Established Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, I have not read the books, M/M, Raphael Santiago Has Feelings, SH show simon does not exist, guadalupe santiago's grave, the softest sweetest boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Raphael is eighteen years, two months when he stands before a crumbling stone bearing the name Guadalupe Santiago. It's Spring and fresh new grass is emerging from the Earth in patches, dandelions bloom near sprigs of overgrown weeds and the moon is a beautiful silver sphere. In his left palm is a golden cross carried faithfully throughout the long stretch of decades and in the right, the weight of a cool hand."Mamá," he clears his throat, thick with emotion. "Mamá, this is Simon Lewis."





	

* * *

 

Raphael is eighteen years, two months and holding his mother's hand as she struggles to breathe. The knuckles protrude leaving the skin thin like paper as he strokes his thumb across, much like cracked glass slowly disintegrating. His mind struggles to reconcile the elderly woman before him with the lively mama who'd baked cinnamon cookies for his birthday from the age of three to seventeen. 

 

Raphael is eighteen years, two months when Guadalupe Santiago succumbs to death at the age of eighty five.  

* * *

 

She is not there as he takes up Camille's position as clan leader nor does she straighten the lapels of his suit while clucking her tongue in regards to proper ironing. 

When his heart is broken for the first time by a beautiful boy, her arms are not there to gently rock him and murmur soothing words. Most days he cannot remember her face but she haunts him in dreams as a faceless blur cradling him under a brilliant Spring sky. In them, he feels alive and whole.

When a wicked man in a dark suit burns sacred crosses into his skin, she is not rubbing salve into the wounds. Her voice does not grow graveled and harsh as she clutches the telephone and gives the man a scathing lecture laced with vague threats over touching her son. 

This is what it boils down to: he is a motherless son. 

* * *

 

Raphael is eighteen years, two months when he stands before a crumbling stone bearing the name  _Guadalupe Santiago_. It's Spring and fresh new grass is emerging from the Earth in patches, dandelions bloom near sprigs of overgrown weeds and the moon is a beautiful silver sphere. In his left palm is a golden cross carried faithfully throughout the long stretch of decades and in the right, the weight of a cool hand. 

 

"Mamá," he clears his throat, thick with emotion. "Mamá, this is Simon Lewis. You know of him, I am sorry it took this long to introduce you."

 

Simon bows his head in a show of respect and touches the stone with two fingers, softly as if were the linen of a sunshine yellow dress. "It's um...it's good to meet you," he stammers. Speeches and greetings are not his strong point, words in general. 

The wind blows, causing a stray curl to tumble over Raphael's forehead and he wonders if Heaven has windows. If she could see him stood in his finest suit and black tie, looking more like the man she never got to meet, he thinks she'd be pleased. If they cannot be together in the great beyond, at least she will know that he is well and loved for the time he has been given.

"I'm Simon, uh, Simon Lewis. I don't know a whole lot about you but I know your son. He's um...yeah he's great."

Raphael gives his hand a squeeze of support and encouragement. When the younger vampire gapes at the stone his eyes soften and Raphael pictures Elaine Lewis. She'd smiled nearly every time she uttered her son's name as the three of them sat around the kitchen table, hot tea in hand. He cannot imagine Simon Lewis outliving her and the anguish that will bring him to his knees. Mothers are God's gift to the world, a child should never have to bury their parent. 

 

Raphael swallows hard, facing his own beloved mother.

 

"Simon is  _mi amor_. He is very stubborn and talks endlessly, even in his sleep. You would love him for that, I love him for that. Most of the time." He shifts, working his jaw before continuing. "You're wondering if he takes good care of me, I know it."   He pauses, taking a shaky breath. Simon envelopes him in his arms,  _safe safe safe._ They stand vigil at the grave, minutes blending into one another until Raphael has gathered himself. Eventually he breaks away, squatting at the gray stone with it's barely legible name and dates. Simon gives him space out of respect and shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. 

Raphael continues. "We take care of one another and he swore an oath that he would not leave, never again. You know of that incident, of course. We are working through it though I have forgiven him as you would have me do." Raphael glances at Simon, aware that he can hear every word. Judging by the teeth currently biting into his bottom lip, he is feeling guilty and ashamed especially in front of the woman who birthed the boy who never grew up, the boy he loves. 

"You always said, _'Love is like starlight, mijo. It takes a lifetime. If you want to look at it every night, you have to work at it. Fight for it'_ And I did, mamá. I brought him here to you, I know your fight and your strength. _Dios,_ I miss you." Sucking in a calming breath he straightens, dusting off his jacket and lifting his chin.

 

"Simon," he beckons, holding out a hand. The younger vampire intertwines their fingers, holding on tighter than he had before and presses his lips to the knuckles. Overhead, gray clouds begin to shroud the moon as a light rain falls. 

 

 _I see you,_ Raphael thought. She has given her blessing from the Heavens and it makes his chest ache, relieved of a heaviness carried for decades. He has made his mamá proud. He pockets the cross carefully.   

 

With his free hand he cups Simon's face and pulls their mouths together, lingering as fat water droplets slide down his cheeks.  _"Te amo,"_ he whispers, kissing away a pinkened streak trailing down the fledglings cheek. _"Te amo,"_ he repeats, brushing his lips over Simon's forehead.

 

He does not miss how his Simon shivers in the cold moonlight or the crack in his voice when he speaks. " _Te amo,_  Raphael Santiago," he murmurs. This graveyard has witnessed more tears and professions of love than chapels but each pale in comparison. Love eternal, love in grief and life everlasting. 

 

"Home," Raphael says. He strokes a thumb over the imprint of his dear madre's name and they set out together, hand in hand.

* * *

 

Raphael is eighteen years, two months when Guadalupe Santiago watches him go. 

_I see you, mi bebé._

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ty to O for the correction on raphael's mother's name, it has been fixed :)
> 
> I realize he was turned at 15 but david castro will never pass for that age so I modified to fit. also idk why everything I write has a sad tinge to it, someone mail me a heart that's not cracked please and thank you


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